The Singers of Nevya (86 page)

“Let me go!” she cried, and despite the pain in her arm, she tried to pull away. He wrapped his other arm around her, holding her like he might a sack of grain. She kicked and struggled, but she was too small and too light. When she gave it up, panting, she saw Bree bent to her knees, clutching her head, and she knew the Singer had tried to interfere.

Cho backed out of the carvery, dragging Sook. The people in the corridor stepped on each other’s feet in their haste to get away from him. Sook’s toes could not reach the ground, and now her ribs and stomach hurt with the pressure of his arm. She could barely breathe. When he finally set her feet on a stair, two treads above his own, she gasped for air and sagged against the banister. A drop of blood fell out of her sleeve to the floor, leaving a small pitiful mark.

Cho held out his hand to Nori, and she came to take it, her head lowered, looking sidelong at the people she passed. “I always repay loyalty,” Cho murmured, smiling.

Sook stared in speechless horror. Nori—Nori had betrayed Yul!

The people in the corridor gasped, and one or two made sounds of disgust. Nori’s head dropped lower yet, but she let Cho draw her up the stairs nonetheless, and he prodded Sook to make her precede them. Slowly, pressing her fingers to her bleeding arm, she climbed the steps. The most eager of Cho’s followers came after them, resuming their posts at the door as Cho thrust Sook into the apartment, and he and Nori followed.

He took Nori into his own bedroom, the large one. Just before closing the door, he cast Sook a thin smile. The feral gleam in his eyes made her shrink against the wall.

He said, “Your turn will come, little Sook.”

He shut the door between them, and Sook turned with dragging feet to her own room. Before she closed her door, she heard Nori cry out. She knew Cho had hurt her, taking his pleasure, if pleasure it was, without regard for her pain.

Sook shut her own door sharply, and leaned her forehead against it, sick with fear and grief. My turn, she thought. If my turn comes, I’ll kill him. I swear it!

She went to the window to look out over the snowbound hills. She wished with all her might for Zakri to come.

Chapter Nineteen

“Between us, we are strong enough to defeat him,” Zakri said, aloud for Berk’s benefit. “The trick will be to get to him without one of us being hurt.”

“Can we not simply go in, and force him to leave?” Sira asked. She looked to Berk. “Surely we have the authority?”

Berk was just shedding his furs, and combing out his hair and beard with his fingers. He shook his head. “Cho doesn’t recognize authority,” he said. He eased himself down with a groan to rest his back against an arching ironwood sucker. It had been a long day of riding, pushing south through Ogre Pass. In the late afternoon they had turned into the road to the southeast. The way led through irontree groves so thickly grown the branches sometimes meshed above their heads into a canopy of dark green needles.

“You know, these gray hairs of mine are reminders to you all that my bones are old!” Berk grumbled.

Mreen scrambled up from feeding softwood twigs to Theo’s cookfire and trotted to Berk. She bent over him, looking into his eyes and patting his grizzled cheeks with her small hands.
Cantor Theo,
she sent,
please tell Berk I will heal his bones for him.

“Mreen says she will work on those old bones,” Theo said, grinning at the courier.

Berk grunted, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. “She must be some healer, if she can make old bones young!”

He has to sit still,
Mreen sent.
And Cantor Theo, you have to tell me what mode to use!

Theo chuckled. “This could be interesting, Berk. You have to hold still, and she does not know which mode to use, so it could take a while!”

“Being still sounds fine to me,” the big man rumbled. “I can use the rest.” He tapped Mreen gently under her chin with a thick finger. “Take as long as you like, little one.” He leaned his head back against the great root and closed his eyes.

Mreen, I suggest
Lidya, Theo sent.
Your patient is more tired than ill.

Theo went on with the
keftet
preparation while Mreen played a
Lidya
melody on her
filla
. The notes were clear and dry in the violet evening, fading to nothing almost before the ear could catch them.

Sira nodded approval.
Your fingerings are much improved.

Mreen’s nimbus glowed, and she hopped from one foot to the other, as full of energy as Berk was drained.
Oh, yes!
she bubbled.
Cantor Nikei is very strict.

So I remember.

Mreen danced to the cookfire and knelt beside Theo once again.
Cantor Theo, will you ask Berk if he is better?

Theo did. Berk opened his eyes, then closed one in a wink at Mreen. “Much better, child, thank you. Now you just do that every night, and this old carcass might make it through the journey.” The travelers laughed. The
hruss
lifted their heads, long ears following the voices.

As Theo put the finishing touches on their meal, Zakri warned Sira, “You must not underestimate Cho’s strength. His Gift is crude, but his psi is like a kick from a
hruss
. It can do a lot of damage. He can ruin an unshielded mind. It is better if we combine our shields, as Jana and I did when he attacked Izak.”

“And his own shields?” she asked.

Zakri held up his hands, palms out. “Do carvers even learn to shield? We do not know.”

“And if we attack him? Then what happens to his mind?”

“I have given that no thought,” Zakri answered. “I am not likely to care, either!”

Sira’s lips pressed together, and she dropped her eyes. Zakri saw Theo give her a sharp look before he pulled the
keftet
from the fire, ready to spoon it into their bowls. Mreen stuck her finger into the pot and licked a dollop of
keftet
, smacking her lips. Theo tousled her hair. “What Singers does Cho have around him?” he asked.

“I know hardly any names,” Zakri told him. “There is a man named Klas, and one named Shiro. Those are all I met, though the House is crowded with Singers. I was only one among many. I know several of the House members, though . . . the cooks.”

“So I am not the only one who is changeless,” Sira observed.

Zakri laughed and saluted with his carved spoon. “I promise, Cantrix Sira, my appetite is only that of a healthy grown man!”

“Indeed,” she said. “We will see.”

“My father knew Klas v’Soren,” Theo said as he handed them their bowls. “Called him a thief and a sneak, not to put too fine a point on it. He traveled with him once, and warned me never to make the same mistake. Singer Klas came poorly supplied, so he helped himself out of my father’s saddlepacks—then took more than his share of the metal at the trip’s end.”

“Not a strong Singer, though, I think,” Zakri said.

“Probably not, or he would not have been a thief,” Theo agreed. He came to sit crosslegged on his furs next to Sira.

They were all quiet for a moment, enjoying the excellent
keftet
. It was fragrant with Observatory’s spices and rich with good grain. Zakri could have smacked his lips like Mreen. He eyed the pot to see if there was more.

“What I would like to know,” Theo went on after a time, “is why so many Singers follow someone like Cho? Klas I can understand, but the rest of them—I knew many a fine itinerant, honest and hardworking men and women. Where are they all?”

Zakri swallowed a large mouthful before he could answer. “I suspect there are a number of them who have second thoughts about the whole thing, but Cho wastes no time in punishing anyone who challenges him. His talent is for controlling the Gifted. They are all terrified.”

“And the House members?”

Berk put his spoon down and looked around at each of them. “You have to understand, before we go into this situation, that Soren’s House members are helpless,” he said. “Their Magister’s gone, with all his family. Their Cantor’s dead, and by now their Cantrix could be. They’re dependent on the itinerants for their warmth, such as it is. Cho has them trapped.”

“There is a Gifted child at Soren, ready and willing to go to Conservatory,” Zakri added. “But Cho will not allow it.”

Sira’s eyes flashed darkly at that, a look Zakri remembered well. “How could things have gone so far?” she demanded. “Has the Committee done nothing?”

Zakri shrugged. “Lamdon did not know until we told them Singers from all over the Continent were disappearing. Iban was trying to reach Amric to warn me, I believe. He almost made it. He came so close.”

Sira laid her bowl aside, her meal unfinished, and turned her gaze beyond the
quiru
as if she were at that moment wishing Iban safe passage beyond the stars. Watching her, Zakri felt the pain of their master’s loss once again, renewed by the freshness of Sira’s grief.

Theo felt it too.
We will set it right, Sira. I promise.

Spirit willing,
Sira answered. She met Theo’s eyes, her face open and vulnerable in a way Zakri had rarely seen. He was surprised to see Theo touch Sira’s knee, and to see that she did not pull away, but even laid her fingertips briefly against his hand.

Would the Spirit dare will anything Cantrix Sira does not?
Theo sent.

That made Zakri laugh, startling Berk. “I am sorry, Berk,” he chortled. “It is this Cantor Theo and his jokes. I will make him speak them aloud from now on.”

Berk smiled wearily. “I’m half asleep anyway, and no decent audience.” He bowed to Theo. “Cantor Theo, if you could save me a joke for tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.”

Theo made a deprecating gesture. “Your Cantor Zakri is too easily amused.”

Zakri smiled at Sira. “So I have heard, and often.” He won a slight smile from her in return, though her eyes were shadowed.

Theo collected the
keftet
bowls, frowning over the bits Sira had left in hers, and stepped to the edge of the camp to scrub them out with chunks of snow. Sira took Mreen outside the
quiru
. They came back quickly, shivering. Despite Mreen’s protests, Sira made her sit still while she undid the binding of her hair and helped her pull off her boots and her trousers. In just her tunic, Mreen quickly wriggled down into her bedfurs. Zakri saw Sira touch the little girl’s cheek with the backs of her fingers.

Sleep well, child,
she sent.

One song first?
Mreen begged.

Zakri joined in.
Yes, Cantrix Sira! One song, please!

Sira shot him a look.
You are still listening to every conversation around you!

He gave her his most winning smile.
It has been a most useful habit.

She sighed in mock exasperation, but she sat back on her heels at the edge of Mreen’s bedfurs and thought for a moment.
One song, then
, she sent to Mreen.
A very old one.

Mreen dimpled and snuggled deep into her furs. The layers of the
caeru
pelt, yellow on the outside, creamy white in the soft depths, tangled with her red hair, encircling her sleepy face. Zakri’s heart warmed at the sight. He could understand, just now, the look Sira sometimes turned on him. Occasionally he caught her watching him, her angular features softer than usual, her eyes brighter. She always averted her glance if their eyes met, and the expression on her face was a mystery to him. He felt a bit sad, thinking of it. He closed his eyes to listen to her sing, and to sense the gentle cantrip for sleep she wove into the lullaby.

LITTLE ONE, LOST ONE,

S
LEEPY ONE, SMALL ONE,

P
ILLOW YOUR HEAD,

D
REAM OF THE STARS,

A
ND THE
S
HIP THAT CARRIES YOU HOME.

L
ITTLE ONE, SWEET ONE,

D
ROWSY ONE, LOST ONE,

T
HE NIGHT IS LONG,

T
HE SNOW IS COLD,

B
UT THE
S
HIP WILL CARRY YOU HOME.

Mreen’s drooping lashes made delicate shadows on her cheeks. Berk murmured, so as not to wake her, “Lovely. It’s good to hear you sing again, Cantrix. We’ve missed you at Amric.”

Sira inclined her head to him. “You are kind, Berk. I thank you.”

Mreen’s eyes opened again, resisting.
More
, she sent sleepily.
One more song.

Zakri chuckled.
I will sing you one
.
I am no Cantrix Sira, but I sing a little!

Sira smiled at him. “It would give me pleasure to hear you. It has been some time.”

“There is a song my mother taught me,” Zakri told Mreen. “My mother was a Singer like yours. Not a Cantrix, though—an itinerant Singer.”

Mreen’s green eyes opened wide, thinking about this.
Is she dead, too, like mine?

Zakri gazed at her across the banked fire. He saw her mother in her eyes, laughing Isbel of the beautiful voice and auburn hair.
Yes
, he answered, and he sent Mreen a picture of his own mother, as best he could remember her. She gave a little nod of understanding. “Now, I will sing this song, but then you must go to sleep. Promise?”

She nodded, heavy eyelids struggling against the effects of Sira’s cantrip. Zakri turned his own eyes up to the stars blanketing the night sky above their
quiru
. It had been a long, long time since he had thought of his mother.

T
HE
CAERU
HAS PUPS, AND THE
FERREL
HAS FLEDGLINGS,

T
HE
HRUSS
HAS ITS FOAL, AND THE
WEZEL
ITS KITS.

T
HE
CARWAL
HAS WHELPS, THE
TKIR
HAVE THEIR CATLINGS

A
ND
I
, MY SWEET DARLING, HAVE YOU.

T
HE
URBEAR
HAS CUBS THAT PLAY ON THE
G
LACIER,

T
HE
TKIR
LETS ITS BABES RUN WILD IN THE SNOW,

B
UT THE CHILD OF MY HEART TUMBLES HERE ON THE FLOOR,